Chapter 121 The Shattered Glass
There was only the heavy, delicious weight of Nate’s body, the rough velvet of his voice, and the lingering, sweet ache that served as a physical reminder of the night. It was a brand-new sensation—a pulse of awareness that hummed in my blood every time I shifted against the cool sheets.
Nate shifted, his hand sliding from my waist to cup my cheek, his thumb grazing my lower lip with a slow, deliberate pressure that made my breath hitch. He looked at me with an expression that was almost frighteningly tender, his golden eyes searching mine with a quiet, focused intensity that felt more intimate than the act itself.
"How do you feel?" he whispered, his voice still low and gravelly from sleep. He paused, his gaze softening with a hint of concern as his hand traveled down the curve of my hip. "Are you... a little sore? I tried to be careful, but I know it was a lot for your first time."
I felt the heat rise in my cheeks again. I leaned into his touch. "I’m okay, Nate. Better than okay. I feel... light. Like I’ve finally stopped holding my breath for the first time in years."
"Good," he murmured, his lips finding the sensitive spot behind my ear before traveling down the column of my throat. "Because I don't think I can stay away from you for very long. I’ve spent months imagining what this would be like, and the reality is so much more dangerous than I expected."
"Dangerous?" I teased, my fingers tracing the hard, sculpted lines of his abs.
"Addictive," he corrected, his voice dropping to a low, predatory rumble as he pulled me closer. He hooked his leg over mine, pinning me to the mattress and dragging my body flush against his. I could feel the immediate, hard evidence of his desire pressed against my thigh.
He began to kiss me again—slow, deep, possessive kisses that tasted of absolute claim. His tongue flicked against mine, a rhythmic exploration that sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in my lower belly. His hands moved over my skin with a newfound, proprietary grace; he knew the curves of my body now, knew exactly where to touch to make my toes curl. He dragged his palm upward, his thumb raking across my nipple until I let out a sharp, needy gasp against his mouth.
The air in the room grew heavy and thick again. I felt a slow-burn hunger ignite, a desperate need to feel him inside me again, to lose myself in the friction and the heat. I arched my back, my nails digging into the corded muscle of his shoulders, urging him closer. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound of surrender, and buried his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling me as if I were the very air he needed to breathe.
Then, the world came back.
The sharp, aggressive vibration of his phone on the wooden nightstand sounded like a gunshot in the quiet room. We both froze, our bodies still fused together, the sudden noise a violent intrusion. Nate let out a low, frustrated growl against my skin, choosing to ignore the first few pulses, his hand sliding lower to the small of my back to pull me tighter.
But the caller was persistent. The vibration stopped for two seconds before starting again, relentless and demanding.
Nate pulled back with a heavy sigh, the molten gold of his eyes hardening into a cold, professional mask as he reached for the device. He didn't even have to look at the screen to know who it was; I could tell by the way his jaw set into a jagged line of granite.
He swiped the screen, but he didn't say hello.
"I'm busy," he snapped, his voice a lethal, sharpened blade.
I couldn't hear the voice on the other end, but the silence that followed Nate's words was heavy with an invisible authority. I watched his face go pale, then flush with a suppressed, white-hot rage. His grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned a ghostly white.
"I told you I’d be in later, Alexandra," Nate hissed, his eyes flicking to me for a brief second. "This can wait until I've had my coffee. Or until tomorrow."
Whatever his mother said next made him sit bolt upright, the sheets falling to his waist. His entire demeanor shifted from the lover who had cherished me an hour ago to the heir of an empire being summoned to the throne. I could see the defiance in the set of his shoulders—but he was irritated by the leash she was trying to pull.
"I said I understand," he said, his voice now devoid of any emotion—the cold, corporate Salvatore mask firmly in place. "I’ll be at your office in twenty minutes. Don't call me again."
He ended the call with a violent thumb-press and stared at the dark screen for a long beat, his chest heaving with a slow, controlled anger. The bubble hadn't just burst; it had been incinerated by the cold reality of his status.
"My mother," he said, the name sounding like a curse he was forced to carry. "She’s calling an emergency board meeting, or so she claims. Alexandra wants me in her office. Immediately."
He turned to me, his hand reaching out to cup the back of my neck, his touch still warm despite the coldness of his voice. "I have to go, Mila. If I don't show up, she’ll start looking for reasons to make my life—and yours—unnecessarily complicated. She's playing a game, and I need to go shut it down."
I sat up, the sheet clutched to my chest, feeling the sudden chill of the room. "It’s okay. I actually... I have to go visit my sisters today anyway. I promised Grace I'd come by the Joneses' place early. They’ve been through enough, and I need to make sure they’re okay after everything with the phone call yesterday."
Nate’s expression softened for a fraction of a second at the mention of my sisters, his thumb stroking the side of my neck. "I’ll have a car take you. Don't argue with me on that. I want to know you’re safe while I’m dealing with my mother’s theatrics."
He leaned in, crushing his lips to mine one last time—a hard, desperate kiss that felt more like a promise of return than a goodbye. "Stay safe. I’ll call you the second I'm out of that building."
As he stood up and began to gather his clothes, the safety of the dorm room felt like a faded illusion. The walls hadn't protected us; they had merely trapped us in a beautiful moment that the rest of the world was already trying to tear apart. The cold January air seemed to rush in to fill the space where his body had been, and a leaden weight of unease settled into my chest. Alexandra Salvatore didn't do "emergencies" unless she had already moved the first piece on the chessboard.